


lie to the end

by cosmicpoet



Series: shuake week 2019 [7]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, M/M, honey i'm home day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-01 20:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Goro understands that Leblanc feels like a home, the one thing he'll never truly have.





	lie to the end

Goro knows why he keeps coming to Leblanc. At first, and sometimes even now, he can convince himself with cold calculation that he’s here to gather information, even to unnerve Akira, before putting his plan in action soon enough. Still, as much as he can lie to others, he’s never been the expert at lying to _himself - _it’s quite hard to craft a meticulous story enough to convince him that he’s anything beyond the empty orchestra he’s always been, and as long as someone can come along to elicit some sickly sharp tune out of him, he might be able to creak his own aria to its inevitable conclusion. The fact that that _someone _just had to be the leader of the Phantom Thieves has put him in quite the awkward position, but eighteen miserable years have taught him nothing if not that he has to bite back against the unpredictable world.

But he knows more now than he’s ever known, not necessarily about _love, _but about justice in all its forms, and the masks that everyone wears; he’d like to learn how to break them, soon enough. It would be easier if he could dismantle the whole world to its bare bones and scream, _“Look at me now, you’re no better than me!”, _but instead, he just retreats into himself and orders another cup of coffee from Sojiro. Yes, it’s true, the reason he keeps coming back to Leblanc is because it feels like a home - not his home, not anywhere that he’d belong, but _a _home. Akira’s home. And even as he sits in his usual seat at the counter, his observant eyes map out the place beyond, the little stairs that lead up to Akira’s bedroom, the back room with the faint smell of freshly-cooked curry filling the storefront.

Goro wonders what it’s like to live here. His own apartment is small but well-maintained, and if anyone were to catch him off guard in it, they’d be satisfied that it is a fitting home for the Detective Prince. Ah, of course they would, because they’d match those false, television pleasantries to the bare bones of his empty apartment, calling it ‘minimalist’ and ‘pristine’, but skirting around the only true description of Goro’s life: _lonely._

He imagines that Akira’s bedroom is different. Every time that Goro has spoken to him, he’s been an enigma, simultaneously well put-together and a mess of mystery; his bedroom must be similar. For some reason, despite already professing that Akira is his enemy in his own mind, he smiles at the thought of his bedroom being full of memories made with the bundle of misfit friends he has. Of course, Goro has researched them all, these _Phantom Thieves, _and now he knows far too much about who they are when they’re not undertaking criminal activities in the name of their own justice. He knows that Ryuji likes ramen, that Ann models on the side, that Yusuke won a painting competition, and Makoto - ah, now he was familiar with her anyway, on account of Sae - really likes motorbikes. Perhaps if he’d met her in another life, they could have bonded over a mutual interest, maybe she could have even introduced him to Akira and given him tips on however a normal eighteen year old is supposed to approach someone he just _might _have a slight crush on. But, to digress, Futaba is the true Medjed, and Haru, still reeling in her own grief, spends her time on the school rooftop, trying to bring life back to dying plants.

There are a lot of apologies he can never make.

It does hurt a little to be confronted with the fact that he doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere, especially when he makes the comparison between himself and Akira - it makes him angry half the time, to think of how much he’s meticulously tried to control his own life just so that somebody will want him around, only to be forced into inferiority against some hero-complex _criminal _who he just can’t bring himself to hate. But, the other half of the time, he wants nothing more than genuine acceptance not just from Akira, but from all of the Phantom Thieves - it tastes a little like the golden pursuit of a forgiveness he’ll never get.

It doesn’t matter. Or, more like, it _can’t _matter, because he’s so close to achieving his goal. Even if it means - god, he can’t even _think it - _killing Akira, he simply doesn’t have any other options; it’s a pipe dream to imagine that he can live a life different to this hell. Perhaps, in another universe, another version of Goro has a mother, has friends, has a chance to live to see the end of the year without putting a target on his back for everyone around him. He hopes that, at least, _that _Goro has a home to go to, maybe even one just like Leblanc, with its familiarity becoming so, so much more than just the welcoming aroma of a coffee shop, by now.

The bell chimes as the door opens, and Goro looks up, a little wistfully. Akira comes through the threshold, his eyes locking onto Goro, and now he’s trapped - he can’t look away. Everything fits a little too nicely into place, the fantasy of Leblanc being a place of refuge sticking hard in his heart, and the words are spilling out of his mouth before he can even comprehend what he’s saying.

“Welcome home.”

Shit. How can he rescue himself from _that one? _Stutter out some pathetic words, something like, _“Sorry, I mean welcome back,” _or _“Sorry, welcome to _your _home.” _It won’t fly with someone as observant as Akira, and Goro _panics, _searching for some kind of answer in Akira’s eyes, wondering how he’s going to kill him later on, and if he’ll be able to look at him directly, then.

“Honey, I’m home,” Akira says with a comfortable smirk. So comfortable that Goro puts on another of his masks, hiding the compulsion to smile or say something truly from the heart, about genuinely wishing they’d both met earlier. Instead, he matches his expression until it becomes a mirror of Akira’s.

“You’re back awfully late,” he says, and then it’s all over. Any meaning that he might have put onto the conversation dissipates, because this has to be a game for them both - it absolutely has to be, because what else is there?

**Author's Note:**

> A late final day for Shuake Week, and an early entry for "Honey, I'm home" day!
> 
> Title from 'Alligator Skin Boots' by McCafferty.


End file.
